


Enchanted

by dracoqueen22



Series: Upon a Star [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Prowl never expected to find much of interest in a rotting city like Uraya, until he stumbled on a small cafe, and laid optics on one of the owners.





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the places Prowl had been sent for his Prime, Uraya was coming to be the most depressing by far. It was a small town, barely qualified as one, and it was dying. It hovered on the edge of utter disrepute, clinging to existence with the sort of thin-fingered tenacity of the truly desperate.  
  
As far as picking a place to commit morally dubious experiments, Uraya was a great choice. Prowl could see why Starscream would choose to set up shop here. If not for certain odd transactions taking place which attracted the attention of those in Iacon, he might have never been discovered.  
  
Still.  
  
The longer Prowl remained in Uraya, the deeper the pity took root in his spark. Cities like Uraya, decaying towns like this, they were evidence of how far Cybertron had fallen. The Golden Age was so long ago as to be the shadow of a memory.  
  
Prime refusing to acknowledge their troubles would only continue to contribute to the unrest. Having been sparked at the height of the Golden Age, he saw their planet through the gold-tinted spectacle Cybertron had once been. Then again, Iacon itself was a monument to how great Cybertron had become.  
  
It was difficult to see the decay when surrounded by purity.  
  
Prowl had been in Uraya for two weeks. He had accomplished nothing save mapping the general layout of the city, and establishing that everyone here was suffering in one way or another. From the packs of Empties roving the wastes, to the Empurata victims creeping in the alleyways, to the citizens struggling to keep themselves fueled, never able to escape their circumstances for one reason or another.  
  
And Starscream, presumably leading them all, but too entangled in his machinations to care for those under his ‘guidance.’  
  
It was exhausting.  
  
_Prowl_ was exhausted.  
  
But he’d heard, of all the businesses in Uraya – though to call them such was being generous – Color and Conversation was the hub of activity. It was well-known. It was well-visited. And the proprietors were connected, somehow, to the Regent – aka Starscream.  
  
It was one of the last places on Prowl’s list to reconnaissance. Which was convenient, given that his tanks had been pinging him for the last hour, and exhaustion tugged at his struts. He could use a sit down, and a sip of something sweet.  
  
Rumor had it that Color and Conversation had the best treats this side of the Wastes, too. Well, Prowl wasn’t much interested in treats. But he could approve of good engex.  
  
He invited himself through the front door, a cheerful little chime announcing his arrival. Everyone looked up as he stepped through, registering and weighing him in one glance. He was dismissed by most, given a few suspicious glances by several others, but otherwise, ignored.  
  
Prowl stood out here. He knew he did. With his relatively spotless, expensive armor, and the fact he held his head high, he obviously didn’t belong. He should have taken up on Jazz’s offer to redecorate himself ‘like the natives’, to quote his irreverent brother. But Prowl was not, and had never been, a spy. He was an investigator. He intended to look like one.  
  
He found an unoccupied booth and slid into it, relieved that it was not so narrow as to restrict his sensory flats. In fact, he could lean back comfortably. How convenient.  
  
He noticed several doorways. One, nearly behind the counter, must have led to some kind of personal quarters, perhaps the owner’s suite. Another, on the far wall between the counter and another string of booths, was more doorway than door. It was open as though to invite visitors inside, though the angle at which Prowl sat meant he could not see into the room.  
  
“Hey, stranger.”  
  
He looked up as a red mech sauntered into view, a broad grin on his handsome face, and a sparkle to his optics. He had heavy armor, which suggested a warrior or soldier of some kind, though it gleamed as if freshly polished. He carried no rank or affiliation badges either, but he did not appear armed.  
  
“Need a menu?” the mech asked.  
  
Safe to assume he was one of the owners. Prowl doubted there was enough income here to support an employee. He, like everyone else in the city, was probably only scraping by.  
  
“No, thank you,” Prowl said as he inclined his head. “I’ll take whatever you recommend.”  
  
The mech’s orbital ridge rose upward. “You don’t look like a mech who’s not particular,” he commented.  
  
Prowl offered him a polite smile. “Looks can often be deceiving.” He pulled a cred chip from a subspace pocket and handed it to the mech. “If you could add a selection of your energon candies, I would be grateful.”  
  
He was given a suspicious look, but the cred chip quickly vanished. Not a fool was he.  
  
“Sure thing,” the mech said cheerfully. “I’ll just be getting that for ya. The name’s Sideswipe. Holler if you change your mind about what you want before I bring it, yeah?”  
  
“Much appreciated.”  
  
‘Sideswipe’ winked and sauntered away, though he swung by a few booths to collect some dirtied cups and flirt with his patrons. While the cafe wasn’t busy, Prowl suspect that this was the average amount of customers. Most of whom were no doubt regulars.  
  
Sideswipe made a complete circuit of the dining area, but he paused by the open doorway Prowl had noticed earlier. He leaned in and shouted, “Sunny, it’s time for your break!”  
  
“I know!” came a snarled reply.  
  
Sideswipe just shrugged and continued on his route. “Then actually listen to me this time,” he shot back, though with far less energy behind it.  
  
No one blinked twice at this exchange. Apparently, it was a common enough occurrence. Curious, but common.  
  
Sideswipe returned behind the counter, dumping the dirtied items into a bin, and humming to himself as he started making orders. Prowl’s gaze wandered back to the open doorway, just as another mech emerged.  
  
Prowl’s spark stuttered.  
  
Sideswipe was handsome, but this mech was even more so. He was, dare Prowl say, pretty. A gleaming gold compared to Sideswipe’s lustrous crimson, though his armor carried the same heaviness as Sideswipe’s. Despite the pitched glare and near smile, he was absolutely stunning.  
  
He stomped out of the room like a stormcloud hovered over his head.  
  
“There you are,” Sideswipe said, and without a missed motion, tossed a rag in the golden mech’s direction. “Here. You missed a spot.”  
  
‘Sunny’ scowled and snatched the rag, rubbing it over his arms. “My alarm was set for another ten minutes.”  
  
“Only because you hit the delay-ten,” Sideswipe retorted with a roll of his optics.  
  
Sunny scooted behind the bar next to his associate, and only standing next to each other could Prowl read the similarities in their construction. Not identical, but perhaps built for the same task. Were they forged or constructed cold? Or were they, perhaps, kindled?  
  
It didn’t matter. Prowl was not one to judge based on one’s origins. But they were intriguing enough that he wondered.  
  
“I don’t need you nannying me,” Sunny snapped.  
  
Sideswipe visibly sighed a ventilation. “Sunny--”  
  
“Stop calling me that!”  
  
Another optic rolled was followed by a correction. “Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe said with a look of utter aggravation. “I wouldn’t have to nanny you if you’d take care of yourself properly.”  
  
While they argued, Sideswipe continued to mix and stir and gather items onto a tray. Apparently this, too, was common place.  
  
“Missing one fuel serving is not going to hurt me. We both know that by now,” Sunstreaker retorted and scrubbed harder at his armor, attacking a spot with the kind of viciousness a mech reserved for their most loathed enemies.  
  
Sideswipe hefted up his tray. “Why do I even bother?” he muttered, but whether or not his partner was meant to hear it, Prowl didn’t know.  
  
He left Sunstreaker behind the counter, swabbing at his frame with utter dedication, though as far as Prowl could tell, Sunstreaker was spotless. His armor gleamed far brighter than any mech in here. One wouldn’t guess, given his appearance, that he called a place like Uraya home.  
  
Sunstreaker looked down at himself, frowned, but tossed the rag into the bin with the dirtied dishes. He turned his back to the room, opening a cabinet to rummage around in it, only to withdraw a tall glass. Perhaps he intended to mix his own drink.  
  
Like Sideswipe, Sunstreaker carried no badge of rank or affiliation. Prowl could see no weapons on his person either. He did, however, have some kind of booster apparatus on his upper back. Curious.  
  
“See something you like?”  
  
Prowl cycled his optics as a red presence appeared in his peripherals. He looked up to acknowledge Sideswipe as the mech set a glass down in front of him, along with a plate of treats, though both with a little more force than seemed necessary.  
  
“Beg your pardon?” Prowl asked.  
  
Sideswipe’s optics narrowed. “Stare any harder and I’m gonna have to start charging you,” he said, tone icy and far from the polite pleasantness he’d offered earlier.  
  
Prowl tilted his head. “I don’t know to what you are referring.”  
  
“Of course you don’t.” Sideswipe snorted and leaned closer, though if he meant to intimidate, he’d have to try harder. “Lookin’ better be all you’re doing, stranger. Understand?”  
  
Prowl curled a hand around his energon, wondering if he ought to check it for poisons first. “Are you this polite with all your customers?”  
  
“Just the ones who try to order off-menu.” Sideswipe smiled, but it was full of denta and as a friendly as a Sharkticon. “I know your kind, _Elite_ , and Sunstreaker ain’t gonna be your new toy.”  
  
Prowl frowned, his sensory panels twitching. He couldn’t help but be offended, even if Sideswipe did have good reason not to trust outsiders. Still, to be judged by his appearance alone. It was insulting. He’d been nothing but polite.  
  
He would have retorted, but the main doors opened then, the cheerful chime announcing the arrival of more customers. Sideswipe straightened and brightened, planting a happy smile on his face.  
  
“Welcome to--” He cut off with a scowl, his posture going stiff and defensive. “Oh, it’s you.” Sideswipe tucked his tray under his arm and stepped away from Prowl’s table.  
  
Warning Prowl had apparently become the least of his worries.  
  
Prowl’s frown lingered. He leaned out of his booth to watch as Sideswipe hurried to greet the mech at the door. Sturdy construction, taller than Sideswipe by a head, and armed by no less than two blasters. Visor and facemask, along with dark, muted colors suggested a former soldier and/or mercenary. Tank treads evidenced a military alt-mode. Worn spots on his chestplate and shoulder hinted he’d once worn badges.  
  
He’d seen this type of mech skulking about Uraya, more often than not intimidating the small business owners or gathering in groups of two or three to chat in very public spaces. They were menacing, and the residents of Uraya tended to give them a wide berth.  
  
Agents of the Regent, Prowl had presumed.  
  
Sideswipe and the mech spoke in urgent, hushed tones. Sideswipe’s armor lifted and rattled, as though agitated, while the military mech was cool and calm.  
  
Well, rumors that Color and Conversation were connected to the Regent in some way must have some truth to them. Sideswipe did not behave as a mech intimidated, only angered.  
  
Finally, he growled and spun toward the serving counter. “Watch the shop, Sunny. I’ll be back in a sec.”  
  
The pretty mech scowled. “Don’t call me that.”  
  
Sideswipe threw up a hand and stomped out the door, following in the wake of the newly arrived stranger. The door chimed cheerfully as they departed.  
  
Again, none of the other patrons seemed surprised by this. They continued chatting amongst themselves, drinking and consuming as if they had nothing better to do.  
  
Curious.  
  
Prowl turned his attention to his own drink. Prudence reminded him, and he subtly tested the concoction for poisons. But, no. It was nothing more than a weak energon spritzer, dusted with rust flavoring.  
  
Sweet, he discovered, but not poisoned.  
  
The treats themselves looked utterly delectable, enticing Prowl despite not usually enjoying such frivolities. They were a variety of colors and consistencies, and he followed through with temptation, trying several before he was able to convince himself to stop.  
  
There was talent buried in Uraya, he observed.  
  
He refueled quietly and returned his attention to the counter, and the mech behind it. Sunstreaker puttered around, straightening up supplies, wiping the counter, and greeting one mech who walked up to him. He still scowled, but the mech was not visibly offended.  
  
Another regular, perhaps used to Sunstreaker’s mood.  
  
Prowl finished the engex and slipped the rest of the candies into his subspace. He feared if he stayed here too long, observing, someone might realize exactly what he was doing. Jazz would be furious if he managed to get outed by sheer negligence on his part.  
  
The other patrons had left their dirtied glassware and trays behind, a mess for the owners to attend. Prowl, however, could not bring himself to do so. He gathered his items and approached the counter.  
  
It was as much generous as selfish, he knew, because he had to admit, he wanted to speak with Sunstreaker. Both to see what he could find about Starscream, and because the gorgeous mech intrigued him.  
  
“Can I help you?” Sunstreaker asked in a tone that strongly implied Prowl should actually just ‘frag off’ and be done with it.  
  
Prowl set the dirtied items on the counter. “I’m finished for today, but thank you.”  
  
Sunstreaker’s optics, a lovely shade of near-spark blue, flicked from Prowl, to his dishes, and back again. “You can leave those on the table, you know,” he said as he swept them into a tub with other dirtied items.  
  
“Perhaps, but I was taught to be tidy,” Prowl conceded.  
  
Sunstreaker snorted. “You might as well have ‘outsider’ stamped on that chevron of yours then.” He tucked the tub back under the counter, nudging it further in with his hip.  
  
“I am that obvious?”  
  
“Have you looked around you?” Sunstreaker arched an orbital ridge and gave Prowl an amused look.  
  
“Only in passing,” Prowl admitted. “Strangely, my gaze only wishes to focus on one individual in particular.”  
  
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. His scowl deepened, and whatever friendliness he’d been working toward vanished. The shift was startling.  
  
“Sides’ll be back in a few,” he said coldly and started to aggressively clear the counter. “You’re not really his type, but he’s not that picky, so I’d say you have a shot.”  
  
Prowl blinked. “Yes. Well, charming as your partner is--”  
  
“Brother.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“He’s my brother,” Sunstreaker said, and loudly rattled the tub of dirtied dishes, lifting it and setting it on a narrow counter behind him. “Twin actually. And, no. We’re not a package deal.” The tub landed with a clunk, and he whirled back toward Prowl. “Are you going to buy something or not?’  
  
Somehow, he’d lost his grasp on the conversation.  
  
Prowl tried to smile. “I already have actually. I was more interested--”  
  
“Look, I have a lot to do,” Sunstreaker said, showing Prowl his back as he sorted bottles of engex mixes, making a lot of noise but not actually accomplishing anything. “So if you’re not buying anything, then you’re not a customer anymore, so thank you, have a nice day, goodbye.”  
  
Someone else stepped up to the counter, and just like that, Prowl was dismissed. Sunstreaker stalked down to the other end and greeted the mech with a pained smile, accepting a credchip in exchange for whatever the mech was ordering.  
  
That… had not gone as Prowl intended.  
  
He set a credchip on the counter, hoping Sunstreaker would find it and accept it as a tip, and took his leave. He suspected he would get no more information today.  
  
Except…  
  
Prowl glanced at the counter, where Sunstreaker was busy with another patron, and took an opportunity to investigate the open doorway. The room beyond wasn’t large, not compared to the huge dining area, and it was mostly windows, and open space.  
  
And art.  
  
Large and small canvases were stacked against the walls, some blank, some half-finished, some near-completion and a few that looked as if they were done. A cabinet was stocked with art supplies, and there was an easel and station with a chair set in front of it.  
  
Sunstreaker was an artist. And a good one, at that, though Prowl was not truly equipped to judge. He could only state what his optics enjoyed, and Sunstreaker’s canvases certainly made his spark spin with emotion.  
  
How intriguing.  
  
Prowl made himself turn away, before he drew undue attention. For both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were right. He did stand out. He was obviously an outsider.  
  
He took his leave of the cafe, but he knew he would be returning. Both because he suspected his mission would need the intel, and because Sunstreaker intrigued him.  
  
It seemed like this mission would not be a complete nightmare after all.  
  


***


	2. Chapter 2

_Clunk_!  
  
A tray of dirtied dishware dropped onto the counter above Sunstreaker’s head with enough noise to ensure that Sunstreaker paid the carrier attention.   
  
“Ugh. He’s  _back_ again,” Sideswipe muttered, a sneer in his voice.   
  
Sunstreaker bit back a sigh. He didn’t bother to look at his twin, who was no doubt griping about one of his many post-affair lovers. Instead, Sunstreaker focused his attention on arranging the treat display to maximum benefit.   
  
“Who? Recoil?” Sunstreaker snorted a laugh. “That’s what you get for making promises you’re not gonna keep.” As Sideswipe was so fond of doing.   
  
‘I’ll comm ya later!’ he always said, and then never did, mostly so they would get so angry with him, he didn’t have to worry about them contacting him later. Attachments were dangerous, he said. He didn’t want them. Just a bit of fun now and again. It wasn’t his fault mechs kept deciding they wanted more.   
  
Aft.   
  
“I didn’t promise Recoil anything,” Sideswipe retorted, his field screeching offense where it pawed at Sunstreaker’s, as if demanding he agree and offer comfort and attention. “But, no. Not him. That white mech. The Elite.”   
  
Oh. Him.   
  
Sunstreaker rose from his crouch and closed the cabinet doors with a little snick of magnetized metal colliding. He searched the dining tables, but didn’t have to look far. The Elite mech always picked the same table.   
  
He’d been in here often enough, Sunstreaker recognized him. Most of their customers were regulars, true, but none of them stood out as much as this mech. He was pretty, Sunstreaker had to admit. Sturdy and polished, poised like others weren’t around here. He stood out as a result, which made him doubly easy to find.   
  
Sunstreaker honestly didn’t know what Sideswipe’s objections to the mech were. Sure he wasn’t Sides’ type, but he was clean, and if he was Elite, he didn’t plan on sticking around. That meant he was available and not interested in getting clingy.   
  
Completely Sideswipe’s type actually.   
  
“If you don’t want to frag him, just say so,” Sunstreaker said with a roll of his optics. Honestly, his twin’s romantic and/or sexual entanglements were exasperating.   
  
“I  _would_ , if it was me he had his sights on.”   
  
Sunstreaker blinked. “What?”   
  
Sideswipe sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t noticed he can’t take his optics off you?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s gaze wandered to the Elite mech, but he wasn’t paying Sideswipe or Sunstreaker any attention. One hand held a datapad, which seemed to captivate his interest, while the other blindly directed energon goodies to his mouth for a nibble.   
  
“No, he doesn’t,” Sunstreaker said with a frown.   
  
“Primus, you’re thick sometimes.” Sideswipe groaned and leaned closer, though he didn’t lower his voice at all. “Yes, he does. Want I should throw him out then?”   
  
Sunstreaker reared back. “What for? He hasn’t done anything.”   
  
“So?” Sideswipe shrugged, and looked a bit gleeful as he scratched at his chin. “It’s obvious he wants to. That’s reason enough for me.”   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics yet again. Sometimes, Sideswipe’s overprotectiveness bordered on the absurd. And it was irritating.   
  
“I think you’re just looking for a fight, Sides.” He glanced around the display area and counter, but couldn’t see anything else that needed doing. “I’m going to go sketch.” He slipped out from behind the counter, making it a point not to look in the Elite’s direction.   
  
He wasn’t bothered. He didn’t care. Not one bit.   
  
“Set your timer!” Sideswipe called after him.   
  
Sunstreaker ignored him. Yes, he damn well knew to set his timer. He didn’t need his twin nannying him.   
  
He scuttled off to his art room, but curiosity overcame him. He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the Elite mech once more. Steady, blue optics looked up at him, and it felt like a bolt to Sunstreaker’s spark.   
  
Heat stole into his cheeks, and Sunstreaker ducked into his art room, feeling more than a little shaky. No way was Sideswipe right. Or maybe he was and the Elite was just looking for a cheap frag. Well, joke’s on him. Sunstreaker wasn’t for sale. Not now, not ever.   
  
Sunstreaker plopped down in his chair in front of his canvas, rolling his limbs to get himself in the mood. He tossed back the covering and peered at his most recent work. Half-finished, it was, and he felt if he was diligent today, he could complete it.   
  
But the more he stared at it, but the more he felt – not contempt, but disinterest. The itch, the burn to work on it wasn’t there.   
  
It wasn’t often he felt restless like this. He did, however, know better than to work on yesterday’s project in this state. So he pulled it from the easel and set it aside, careful to drape a covering over it to protect the expensive canvas.   
  
He pulled an old canvas from the stack. One where he’d made an attempt at something on one side, but after loathing it the next day, had scribbled all over it. He couldn’t justify tossing the expensive plexifilm out, however, so he kept it for scrap drawings.   
  
Sometimes, what he needed was to draw a series of slag sketches before his creativity would unlock. So that’s what he did. Nothing important. Nothing he’d worry about selling. Nothing he’d let himself judge or critique.   
  
He just… drew.   
  
It wasn’t until he’d covered half the plexifilm in messy circles and squares and sharp, jutting lines that he realized he was being watched. That wasn’t unusual. Their customers often stopped and peered in, and most of the time, it didn’t bother Sunstreaker. Sides kept away the obnoxious ones, and only let the truly interested observe.   
  
This time, however, Sunstreaker’s plating tingled. Peripheral vision identified the observer, and despite Sideswipe’s insistence, he was still surprised that it was the Elite mech.   
  
Sunstreaker froze.   
  
“Looking for something?” Sunstreaker asked, just short of a scowl on his lips. If Sideswipe was right about the mech watching him, he was probably right about what the mech wanted.   
  
“You, as a matter of fact.” The mech’s voice was as pleasant as Sunstreaker remembered, with none of the smarmy notes of the usual customers who thought their creds meant they were owed more than the energon and treats they purchased.   
  
Sunstreaker swiveled about in his stool, clutching his brush. “Why?”   
  
The Elite hovered in the doorway, his hands behind his back. “I fear I may have made a terrible first impression. I wish to rectify that.”   
  
Clever mech. Sunstreaker snorted. “That doesn’t answer my question.”   
  
Sensory panels arched and went rigid. “I wish to get to know you,” he said smoothly, the corners of his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. Condescendingly perhaps.   
  
Did he think Sunstreaker so desperate for attention that he’d swoon at a little conversation? Pah.   
  
“I’m not for sale.” Sunstreaker whipped back toward his canvas and focused so hard on it, he glared.   
  
There was a beat. A ventilation hitch, and then, “Beg pardon?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s armor drew tight. A little politeness would not be enough to sway him either, no matter how handsome the mech or how enticing his voice.   
  
“You’ll find an easier frag elsewhere,” Sunstreaker said, careful to keep his tone icy. “Twice more if you have creds to spare.”   
  
“That’s not--”  
  
“I’m busy, mech,” Sunstreaker snapped, giving the Elite a sidelong glare. “Go find someone else.”   
  
“I--” The Elite cut himself off and continued with, “Very well.” Sunstreaker heard the distinct click-hiss of a mech shifting his weight, the Elite finally buying a clue. “My name, by the way, is Prowl.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted. “Don’t care.”   
  
“Then I apologize for disturbing you.”   
  
‘Prowl’ took his leave as silently as he’d arrived, and Sunstreaker was left alone with his own thoughts, more than a little surprised it had been so easy. Usually the hungry ones were far more insistent, until Sunstreaker had to growl at them and flash a little blade.   
  
Pah. Whatever. So long as he was gone.   
  
Sunstreaker returned his attention back to his canvas.   
  
Bullet dodged.   
  
***


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl stayed away.   
  
Or as much as his investigation allowed, at any rate.   
  
Sunstreaker was clearly not interested, or even interested in having a conversation for that matter. It was a shame, but Prowl was not one to push. He knew when he was unwanted.   
  
He kept his distance. He was polite, the few times he did stop by the cafe, and he took his meals to go. Sideswipe managed to be civilized, in such a way that Prowl understood the underlying threat.   
  
Stay away from my twin.   
  
Noted.   
  
Prowl was many things, but a fool was not one of them.   
  
He was here to do a job in Uraya, after all, not chase after another mech, no matter how lovely he was. Especially one, he soon learned, who was connected to the Regent.   
  
“Fights for ‘im sometimes,” said one mech, multiple optics darting in multiple directions and making Prowl dizzy to try and maintain eye contact. He stopped bothering. His jittery informant was a miasma of anxiety and paranoia. “He sends ‘em to Kaon or Slaughter City as his… uh… you know? Face mechs?”   
  
“Representatives?” Prowl supplied.   
  
The mech nodded exuberantly. Something clattered and clunked in his lower half. “They always win. Come back with loads of creds.”   
  
“And yet, they are still here,” Prowl said.   
  
The mech shrugged. “Ain’t their creds.”   
  
Hm.   
  
“What business does the Regent have in those cities?” Prowl asked.   
  
There the optics went, skittering in all directions, and the mech’s field turned chaotic and bristly. “Uh.”   
  
Prowl sighed, if only to himself, and dug into his subspace, producing another fistful of energon bars. Pure, compacted energy. Not much for taste, but there was enough energon packed in one bar to keep a single mech going for a week. Here, in a place like Uraya where too many people were starving, these energon bars were almost better than creds.   
  
The handful of bars was all but snatched out of his hands.   
  
“Now,” the mech said as he shoved one into his mouth, and spoke around his raucous chewing, “ya ain’t heard it from me, but I hear that the Regent’s got contacts. Suppliers. Y’know. Mechs interested in the kindsa things he’s interested in, yeah?”   
  
“What type of items?”   
  
The mech chewed and swallowed, patting his rounded abdomen with a satisfied clang of metal on metal. “Equipment. Medical things. Cuffs. Lots of ‘em.”   
  
Why on Cybertron would Starscream want a lot of restraining devices? Prowl shuddered to think of the possibilities.   
  
“Do you know why?”   
  
The mech shook his head, optics darting in all directions, as he suddenly backed up, back hitting the wall of the alley behind him. “Frag, no. I don’t know nothin’ about what the Regent does in that basement ‘o his. A’right? Nothin!”  
  
Basement. Hm. Decent, legal things rarely occurred in basements.   
  
“But whatever it is, you think Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are involved?”   
  
“Ya ain’t that deep in the Regent’s subspace without knowin’ what vermin he keep in there.” The mech slid along the length of the alley, his armor clamped tight, the energon bars vanished, perhaps to his own subspace. “And that’s all I know. I dunno nothin’ more.”   
  
Prowl shifted his weight. “Including, I assume, this entire conversation.”   
  
The informer grinned, showing off the fact he was missing several denta, and a few of those that remained were rusted. “What convo, mech?” He melted into the dark, creaky ventilations the last evidence he existed at all.   
  
Well. That was that then.   
  
Prowl eased out of the alley, sliding into the darkness of the night. Uraya was so poor it could not afford street lamps save for the occasional few which were easy enough to avoid.   
  
So. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe fought in the gladiating pits. That explained how they were able to maintain their business in a city slowly suffocating on its own waste. It also explained the thick armor and the confidence with which they carried themselves.   
  
The extent of their involvement, however, remained a mystery. Sideswipe was apparently some kind of supplier for Starscream, but did that mean he knew why Starscream wanted those items? How deep was he in the Seeker’s clutches? Was Prowl only offering him the benefit of the doubt because of his attraction to Sunstreaker?   
  
Prowl needed more information, but he’d reached something of a dead end. Short of asking the twins outright, which he refused to do. He’d tried subtly questioning some of the more frequent visitors to Color and Conversation, but the minute he’d steered the conversation toward Sunstreaker or Sideswipe’s connection to the Regent, said customers clamped up tighter than an oil drum.   
  
Loyal, they were. Maybe not to the twins in particular, but against Elite mechs from large, flourishing cities? Most definitely.   
  
Or worse, Starscream had a stranglehold on Uraya and only the desperate – like his informant – or the stupid, dared cross the mercurial Seeker.   
  
Prowl had reached the end of what he could do by speaking. He supposed the only recourse left was to get his hands dirty. He was not as talented as Jazz when it came to the stealthy arts, but he was not unskilled. He would have to poke around in places no one wanted him to be.   
  
Places like the storage room for Color and Conversation, or the apartment the twins shared. Places like the depot at the end of Salvage Lane, guarded by a rotating staff of mercenaries, all without badges but their demeanor clearly suggesting they belonged to the Regent.   
  
Prowl had attempted to play dumb and wander inside by accident, and he’d been all but marched off the property, a not-at-all civilian blaster pointed at the base of his spinal strut. Whatever Starscream had stored there, it was something no one was allowed to see.   
  
Though Sideswipe, he’d noticed, was granted unfettered access. Sunstreaker he’d never seen around the place, but he had spotted Sideswipe in multiple furtive conversations with mechs who worked for Starscream. He wondered how much, if anything, Sunstreaker knew.   
  
Prowl snuck through the night, back toward the room he rented. Though calling it a room was generous. It had four walls, a door that only locked because Prowl installed his own manual fastener, and a plank of steel loosely called a berth. It cost a ridiculous amount of credits for the fact it was not luxurious, but it was on the edge of the worst part of Uraya and therefore, closest to the information Prowl needed.   
  
Prowl’s biolights were all he had to light the room, not that he needed much to see or that there was anything to see. Everything important he kept on his person, in his subspace. There was no safe place to leave it otherwise.   
  
He climbed onto the berth, grimacing at the discomfort, and longing for the soft plush of what he had back home. He was still confused why this particular task had been given to him when there were multiple others better suited, including his own brother, but Prowl had ran out of favors on questioning his orders. What his Prime demanded, Prowl obliged.   
  
He set his sensors to alert him to anything, which meant he would only recharge in the lightest of dozes, but it was all he afforded himself here. There was no safety to be found in Uraya, and only Primus knew what Pit Prowl had stirred. He would not be caught with his gun unloaded.   
  
Tomorrow was a new day. A new attempt to divulge more information from the local populace before he was forced to resort to methods which would make Jazz proud.   
  
Prowl cycled a ventilation. He offlined his optics and prepared to recharge, but while his last thoughts were usually a revisit of the day’s events, a quick search of all his gathered intel to see if anything struck him with a revelation, that was not the case this time. Instead, Sunstreaker’s face popped into mind, angry, scowling, aggressive. Overly so, one might say.   
  
Living in a place like Uraya, could Prowl even be surprised? Given how protective Sideswipe was, and Sideswipe seemed to be the less naive of the two, Prowl wondered what that aggression hid. There was a sensitive spark in Sunstreaker, he knew this much by the beautiful art he’d seen. He’d done his research, too.   
  
Sunstreaker had sold a few pieces, mostly out of Uraya, and under a pseudonym, most likely in a bid to hide their origin. But there was no mistaking that style. It was clearly Sunstreaker’s. The sharp, bold lines and colors were quite distinctive. No doubt the few sales helped keep him and Sideswipe afloat.   
  
Sunstreaker had talent. He was a gem in this ruin of a town. He belonged elsewhere. A place with glitz and glamor, a place that would appreciate him for the talent he was. For the beauty he was.   
  
Prowl’s spark glowed with warmth at the thought. He imagined taking Sunstreaker from here, imagined his paint gleaming in the spotlights of his own art gallery. He imagined actually earning a smile from the mech.   
  
Sunstreaker, no doubt, was beautiful when he smiled.   
  
Not that he would ever smile for Prowl. He was too guarded, no doubt burned by the pain life had brought him. There was no getting beyond his walls. It was a pointless thought.   
  
Prowl cycled a ventilation and buried the brief moment of hope. He was here to do a task. He would have to resupply tomorrow and contact headquarters for his weekly check-in as well. With any luck, he could find some good information on Starscream as well.   
  
Prowl did not belong here in Uraya. That was becoming more painfully obvious by the day. And the sooner he could leave, the sooner he could forget about the romance that was not to be, and inappropriate as well.   
  
To that end, Prowl shuttered his optics and initiated a manual recharge sequence, if only to ensure he’d achieve some rest before tomorrow.   
  
After all, he had work to do. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was too early for Sunstreaker to be online.   
  
He said as much, and yes, one might describe his tone as ‘grouchy,’ but Sideswipe deserved it.   
  
“You could have done this on your own,” Sunstreaker grumbled as he trailed after his twin, dutifully carrying a shopping basket identical to the one in Sideswipe’s arms, save that Sideswipe’s was empty while Sunstreaker’s was already stuffed full.  
  
When had Sunstreaker become Sideswipe’s cart? This was unfair.   
  
“And then I would have had to make two trips,” Sideswipe said with the exhausted tone of someone who’d repeated themselves multiple times. Because he had.   
  
He snagged a bag of those cheap, ugly umbrellas their customers seemed to like so much and tumbled it into his basket. Sure. He got the light umbrellas, meanwhile, Sunstreaker was stuck with the canisters of liquid flavorings. All of which, by the way, were sitting on top of his paintbrushes.   
  
“You’re the one who says you don’t get out enough,” Sunstreaker retorted with a roll of his optics. He glared at the shelves. There was nothing here he needed. “Not like you’re going to find a new lay here anyway.”   
  
“Which is a good thing, because if I was, your bright and cheerful disposition would probably scare them away,” Sideswipe muttered, but of course, he couldn’t hide the irritation from the bond, and he didn’t mutter quiet enough.   
  
Sunstreaker heard it all.   
  
He ex-vented and dutifully followed Sideswipe into the next aisle, which was a pathetic selection of powdered flavorings. But pathetic or not, Sideswipe never could make a quick choice. He always lingered here, hemming and hawing over whatever new flake of metal he wanted to try next.   
  
Sunstreaker growled and shifted the basket to his other arm. No amount of goading would convince Sideswipe to hurry. Sunstreaker knew this from experience. He’d walk away and leave Sideswipe here but honestly, then they’d have to waste time looking for each other, and Sunstreaker just wanted to go back home. Preferably, back to his berth.   
  
It was too fragging early, damn it.   
  
“Maybe I’ll try cesium this time,” Sideswipe muttered to himself.   
  
Sunstreaker tipped his head back and swallowed a groan. He let his optics wander over the shelves, not that he expected to find anything of interest, he just needed something to do other than watch Sideswipe debate with himself.   
  
This time of the morning, the store was sparsely visited, but someone was entering the aisle by the other end. Sunstreaker gave them a cursory, dismissive glance. And then he did a double-take.   
  
He knew that black and white frame, those arched sensory panels, that perfectly neutral expression. It was the Elite.   
  
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. He whipped back toward Sideswipe and poked an elbow into his twin’s lateral seam. “Sides,” he hissed.   
  
“Give me a sec. I’m deciding,” Sideswipe replied absently, waving him off.   
  
Sunstreaker jabbed him harder. “Look. It’s that Elite!”   
  
“It’s-- what?” Sideswipe tore his gaze away from the shelves and peered over Sunstreaker’s shoulder, his optics narrowing into flinty slits. “What the frag? What’s he doing here? Is he stalking you now?”   
  
“How would I know?” Sunstreaker snapped. He shifted the heavy basket to his other arm. “Let’s just get your flavorings and go.” He nudged Sideswipe with a shoulder and tried to move past him.   
  
Sideswipe’s frown deepened. “No. I’m getting pretty tired of this actually. Maybe it’s time to handle things my way.” He blindly grabbed one of the flavorings off the shelf and tossed it into his basket. “Come on, Sunny.”   
  
“What?”   
  
Sideswipe, however, was already stomping past him, moving with purpose and anger in his field, straight toward Prowl, who hadn’t even noticed them yet, as far as Sunstreaker could tell. He must have had some kind of spatial awareness, however, as he looked toward them as Sideswipe got closer, his optics widening into surprise.   
  
“Taken to stalking, have you?” Sideswipe demanded, his armor fluffing aggressively, his voice maybe a bit too loud.   
  
Good thing it was early. There wasn’t anyone here to see the kind of scene they were making.   
  
Prowl’s sensory panels arched upward, and he backstepped a pace from them. “I beg your pardon?” He frowned, optical ridges drawing down.   
  
“My brother brushes you off so you decide the best way to handle that is to follow him around?” Sideswipe snapped, his free hand balling into a fist. His lips had peeled back over his denta, and he looked two seconds from trying to pound the paint off Prowl.   
  
Except.   
  
Except Prowl wasn’t giving off the vibes of a mech caught doing something wrong. If anything, he looked confused, perhaps a touch angry at being accosted like this. Sunstreaker wasn’t the best at reading other mechs, but right now, he sort of got the feeling that maybe. Maybe he and Sideswipe were totally wrong about this.   
  
“Or perhaps I am in need of the same basic supplies as the average mech,” Prowl responded, his tone so cool and even Sunstreaker could barely tell he was irritated underneath. “Which is a good reason for me to be here, the only market in town.” He lifted the basket tucked into the crook of his arm, displaying the items within.   
  
It was half-full, Sunstreaker noticed, as he peered around Sideswipe and into the basket. There was a packet of polishing cloths, a bottle of cleanser, a few flavor additives for energon, and a couple paint touch-up sticks. Presently, Prowl stood in front of the individualized flavor additive section, which matched the ones in his basket.   
  
All of which gave truth to his claim that he was here for personal reasons and not because he was stalking Sunstreaker. Which, in further consideration, now made both of them look rather paranoid.   
  
Heat flooded Sunstreaker’s face. Sideswipe didn’t have the grace to look embarrassed, but Sunstreaker certainly felt it. Prowl, after all, had been nothing but polite in all of their interactions.   
  
Sideswipe snorted. “Well isn’t that convenient?” he demanded as he crossed his arms and nearly smacked himself in the face with his basket.   
  
Prowl’s gaze briefly flicked to Sunstreaker before he audibly cycled a ventilation. “I’m not sure how to respond to that,” he said and tilted his head. “Or precisely what I’ve done to offend you. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll make my purchase and leave.”   
  
“Yeah. You do that.” Sideswipe whipped around and grabbed Sunstreaker’s free arm. “Come on, Sunny. Let’s get out of here.”   
  
Sunstreaker twisted out of Sideswipe’s hold, his focus on Prowl, who had yet to move, as if he feared turning his back on them. Probably with good reason, given his and Sideswipe’s behavior. Prowl’s sensory panels were still lifted high and tight, definitely agitated. Sunstreaker had seen much the same out of Smokescreen before.   
  
“Don’t call me that,” Sunstreaker said, but it was half-sparked at best. Automatic at this point. “Besides, I believe him.”   
  
Sideswipe rolled his optics, his field flaring his disbelief. “Of course you do. Because you don’t know any better. But I do.”   
  
Sunstreaker unhooked the basket from his arm and shoved it at Sideswipe, where it clanged against his brother’s chestplate. “I know enough that you’re being rude right now. For no reason.”   
  
Sideswipe scowled and snatched at the basket, both of his arms now laden with them. “Fine. Go ahead and fall for it.” He shoulder-checked Sunstreaker as he stomped past, his field swarming with outrage. “But don’t come crying to me later and expect any sympathy, bro.”   
  
He stormed down the aisle, past the additives he’d been debating earlier, without giving them a second glance. Sunstreaker assumed he left to go pay. He’d be fragged when he got home and realized he didn’t finish his list. He’d blame Sunstreaker for it, too.   
  
Aft.   
  
Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe’s back. His end of the bond had narrowed to the thinnest feed, and Sunstreaker felt nothing from his twin but aggravation. Sideswipe would calm down eventually, this Sunstreaker knew for sure. They never could stay mad at each other for long.   
  
Behind him, Prowl coughed a ventilation. Sunstreaker startled, embarrassment returning, and he slowly shifted his gaze toward the Elite mech.   
  
“Sorry about that,” Sunstreaker said, unsure what to do with his hands so he tucked them behind his back. All the better to avoid Prowl watching him twist his fingers together, betraying his nervousness. “Sides being rude, I mean.”   
  
Prowl shifted his shopping basket into the crook of his arm. His sensory panels drifted down a few millimeters. “And I apologize for making you feel so uncomfortable in my presence.”   
  
Heat must have shaded Sunstreaker’s face an awful hue. “That’s not it either. He’s just overprotective and I… I’m sorry,” he said, and lamely at that. He couldn’t really put it into words, and he didn’t want to say all the awful things Sideswipe was really accusing Prowl of. That seemed ruder.   
  
“Apology accepted.” Prowl tipped his head, and the ends of his mouth curved upward in a small smile. “Perhaps we could start over?”   
  
Sunstreaker blinked. “What?”   
  
Prowl’s smile widened by a fraction. “I am Prowl,” he said as he gestured to himself with his free hand. “And yes, I am a member of the Iaconian Elite Guard, as your brother surmised. I am in Uraya on business, but pure chance had us crossing paths. If you’d let me, I would greatly enjoying getting to know you.”   
  
 _Oh_.   
  
Sunstreaker’s spark skipped a beat. He scratched at the side of his nasal ridge, though it did little to hide the flush of heat darkening his cheeks. Sideswipe was right about one thing at least. Prowl was interested in him. Seriously.   
  
He worked his intake. “I… uh… I’m Sunstreaker,” he said, feeling silly for doing so, but maybe that was what they needed right now. A bit of absurdity to ease the tension. “I own Color and Conversation with my twin brother. Sometimes, I paint. And, yeah. I’d like that.”   
  
“Happy to hear it.” Prowl’s smile softened, turned genuine, if Sunstreaker had a guess. Sides would probably call it manipulative, but maybe people were just nice. That happened sometimes. Didn’t it?   
  
“Are you available two nights from now?”   
  
“Yes.” Sunstreaker leaned forward, until he realized how stupidly eager that made him appear. “I mean, I gotta check with Sides, but I’m sure he can handle things without me for a night.”   
  
Prowl pulled a small chip out of subspace and offered it over. “Here’s my contact information. In case you change your mind.”   
  
“I won’t.” Sunstreaker refused to admit the small tingle that ran through him as their fingers touched.   
  
Prowl tipped his head, his sensory panels fully sinking down. “I will pick you up then. Forgive me if this sounds alarming, but I do, after all, know where you live.”   
  
Sunstreaker chuckled. “I can take care of myself, contrary to what my brother thinks.” He rose up on his heelstruts and sank down again. “But speaking of Sideswipe, I should probably catch up with him.” He gestured over his shoulder. “He’s only gonna get more annoying, the longer he has to wait.”   
  
It was Prowl’s turn to laugh, though softly he did. “Brothers are often like that.” His basket moved from one arm to the other. “It was nice seeing you, Sunstreaker. I look forward to our meeting.”   
  
“Me, too.” Sunstreaker’s insides jittered with an emotion he wasn’t sure he could name. Excitement? “It’s a date.”   
  
“Indeed it is.”   
  
Sunstreaker grinned like an idiot and made himself turn and leave before he said anything else stupid. His mouth hurt because he smiled too hard, and he just knew Sides was going to be an aft about it, but frag him. This was Sunstreaker’s decision to make. Sideswipe was always off in some random mech’s berth. Why couldn’t Sunstreaker have a date if he wanted one?   
  
He headed out of the shop where Sideswipe waited for him, shifting from foot to foot. He clutched a crate in his arms, overflowing with goods, and a bag hung from his right shoulder.   
  
“It’s about time you showed up,” he said, stomping forward and shoving the crate at Sunstreaker. It smacked against his chest with a loud clang. “I’m not carrying all this by myself.”   
  
“Why not? Most if it’s yours,” Sunstreaker snapped. He obediently accepted the crate, however. He was in a good enough mood he did it without a fuss. “Why are you so obnoxious today?”   
  
Sideswipe snorted. “I’m the obnoxious one? That’s rich.” He adjusted the fall of the bag on his shoulder. “Come on. We’re due to open soon.”   
  
Sunstreaker fell into step beside him. He tentatively poked at Sideswipe’s field, sensing the irritation and worry buried in the depths of it. That didn’t excuse Sideswipe’s rudeness, but at least it explained it.   
  
“You took a long time in there, for someone who was telling that Elite to get lost,” Sideswipe said after a minute, cutting his optics in Sunstreaker’s direction.   
  
“That’s because I didn’t.” Sunstreaker nibbled on his bottom lip and looked everywhere but at his brother. “I actually have a date.”   
  
Sideswipe screeched to a halt mid-step and whipped toward Sunstreaker. “A what?”   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics and kept going, forcing Sideswipe to either follow or stand there like an idiot. “I know it’s a word unfamiliar to you, since you seem to always skip that step. But I’m going to go out with Prowl because I want to, and I’m going to do it because I don’t need your permission.”   
  
“You don’t know anything about him!”   
  
“I think that’s rather the point of a date,” Sunstreaker retorted as he heard the noise of Sideswipe hurrying to catch up with him. “I can take care of myself, Sides. And I can make my own decisions.”   
  
Sideswipe growled. “I never said you couldn’t. I just think--”  
  
“--that I’m an idiot? Or a child?”  
  
“I never said either of those things!”   
  
Sunstreaker whipped a glare toward his brother. “You didn’t have to,” he huffed. “I already know what you think.” He slowed to a stop, uncaring that they were not only running late, but also making something of a scene in public. “Can’t you just stop being my older brother for a second and just, I don’t know, be happy for me?”   
  
Sideswipe sighed and moved in front of him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He swept his free hand over his head, suddenly looking a lot older than either of them were. “I just… want you to be careful, all right? He’s not Uraya. He’s not one of us. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”   
  
“I won’t.” Sunstreaker managed something like a smile. “Trust me a little, yeah?”   
  
“I do. Swear I do.” Sideswipe slung an arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulders and hauled him into an awkward half-embrace. “But you’re the only brother I got. I can’t help but want to keep you safe.”   
  
Sunstreaker groaned. “Now you’re being a sap.”   
  
Sideswipe grinned and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “It’s ‘cause I love ya. Now come on. We gotta hop to it if we want to open the shop on time.”   
  
“It’s your store.”   
  
“It’s ours, Sunny.”   
  
“Don’t call me that.”   
  


***

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sideswipe hated Prowl.   
  
Well.   
  
Perhaps hate was an overstatement. Prowl hadn’t done anything to incite hate in Sideswipe. Loathing. Dislike. Distrust. All of those were possible, viable even. Sideswipe certainly didn’t like Prowl, and he didn’t trust Prowl.   
  
He very much did not approve of Sunstreaker dating Prowl. But as Sunstreaker had informed him, quite vehemently as he never had before, it wasn’t Sideswipe’s decision to make. It was Sunstreaker’s. And he’d decided to say yes to a date with Prowl.   
  
Sideswipe still didn’t like him.   
  
Prowl was too much like Outlash in the ways that mattered. They didn’t look alike. They didn’t act alike. But they were of the same stock, the same breed. They came from credits. They came from a good life. They came to Uraya, but they could leave anytime they wanted. They came here to play, to slum, to throw around their charm until some fool fell under their sway.   
  
They promised things they couldn’t – or wouldn’t – deliver. They whispered sweet nothings. They murmured love and tossed around words like ‘always’ and ‘beautiful’ and ‘better’ but only to seduce. Mechs like Prowl and Outlash didn’t mean them. Such words were only tools.   
  
And now Sunstreaker had fallen for their spell. Sunstreaker who deserved so much better. Sunstreaker who was so fragging stubborn he wouldn’t listen to anything Sideswipe had to say on the matter.   
  
“Sideswipe, you’re not looking!”   
  
He cycled a ventilation and turned back toward his twin, whose face was creased with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, and had his hands on his hips in outrage. His paint sparkled and gleamed, pretty enough to outshine anything in Uraya, Iacon, or any of the citystates around them.   
  
“You’re perfect,” Sideswipe said. “Not a scratch on you. There never is. I don’t know why you have anything to be worried about now.” He folded his arms over his chestplate, wondering if he presented the perfect mix of concern and disapproval, with a thin thread of support.   
  
He’d promised, after all, that he wouldn’t be an aft about this. Even though he really wanted to stomp to the door when Prowl arrived, fling it open, and tell the mud-wading slagger to frag off.   
  
“I have to be better than perfect,” Sunstreaker said as he twisted around in front of the mirror, trying to see himself from all angles. “First impressions matter.”   
  
“It’s not like he hasn’t seen you before.” Sideswipe rolled his optics and leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve passed the first impression part.”   
  
Sunstreaker frowned and snatched a rag, rubbing at nothing on his left thigh. “Looking good is all I have.”   
  
“You’re wrong about that.”   
  
“Am I?” Sunstreaker asked, but the question felt rhetorical, murmured as it was. He tossed the rag into a basket and went back to examining himself for imperfections.   
  
Sideswipe gnawed on his bottom lip. “He should get down on his knees and thank Primus that you agreed to a date with him. You’re more than just a pretty face.”   
  
Sunstreaker shot him a look. “You’re my brother. You’re obligated to say that.”   
  
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted, but a touch of blue graced his cheeks. His field fluttered at Sideswipe, warm with affection and gratitude. He twisted in front of the mirror again.   
  
“You don’t have to worry,” Sunstreaker said after a moment. He stopped primping and looked at Sideswipe. “Pretty sure this first date is going to be my last, once he realizes how boring and uncivilized I am.”   
  
Sideswipe worked his intake. He wanted to reassure Sunstreaker, but the truth was, he felt Prowl was only in it for Sunstreaker’s pretty face. He saw a mark, and he went for it. He saw something he wanted to tumble, and Sunstreaker fell for it. Sideswipe wanted to believe differently, but he was a bit more learned than his brother.   
  
He knew how mechs like Prowl thought. He knew what they really wanted. And he didn’t want Sunstreaker to experience that pain.   
  
Sunny was stubborn though. There was only so much Sideswipe could do to protect him.   
  
“His loss then,” Sideswipe said with a shrug. “If he doesn’t see you for the treasure you are, he doesn’t deserve you.”   
  
“Yeah, well, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t make you happy if he dumped me.” Sunstreaker’s engine revved until he spun away from the mirror. “Frag it. I look good enough.”   
  
His words were dismissive, but the anxiety in his field was cloying. Sideswipe sent warm pulses of calm across the bond, and felt Sunstreaker greedily latch onto them as if they were a lifeline. For all his bravado, he was nervous.   
  
In any other situation, his nervousness would’ve been cute.   
  
Sunstreaker stomped past Sideswipe and out of his room, armor clamped, field a maelstrom of emotion. Sideswipe bit back a sigh and followed after his twin.   
  
“You look perfect,” Sideswipe said, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall. There was nothing he could say to break through Sunstreaker’s anxiety, he knew.   
  
Sunstreaker opened the door leading into the cafe, which was closed for the evening, the lights dim and casting odd shadows over the booths and display case. Through the windows, the streets were dark with the odd mech shuffling here and there, to whatever they did or could do here in this city.   
  
“You’re not going to give him some kind of threatening talk, are you?” Sunstreaker asked as he moved behind the counter, fiddling with things but not doing much. His gaze, Sideswipe noticed, kept darting toward the door as he waited.   
  
Sideswipe leaned against the counter. “Well...”   
  
“Sides!”   
  
He managed a chuckle, because that affronted tone was adorable. “I do have this huge speech planned out. You know, about knowing where to hide dead mechs and a pack of scraplets eager to be fed.” He propped his chin on his hand and watched Sunstreaker fiddle with nothing. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “You’re not my genitor.”   
  
“Closest thing to it.”   
  
“Not even!” Some of the tension visibly eased out of Sunstreaker’s armor at the banter. “I don’t need you threatening him away before I get a chance to scare him off myself.”   
  
Sunstreaker stalked out from behind the counter and started pacing the length of the shop, beside the booths, his gaze flickering to the windows before hastily wandering away again, as though he didn’t want to appear eager.   
  
“You seem so sure that’ll happen.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted again and stopped near one of the corner booths. He gave Sideswipe a peripheral look. “Have you met me?”   
  
“Known you from the moment we split, bro.” Sideswipe glanced at the window and caught movement, but Sunstreaker hadn’t yet. “And you’re every bit as lovable now as you were then.”   
  
Sunstreaker sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?”   
  
“It’s part of my charm.” Sideswipe chuckled and pushed himself up from the counter. “Anyway, now’s your chance.”   
  
No sooner had he spoken than the door chimed to announce Prowl’s arrival. Sunstreaker startled like he’d been struck and spun toward the door, a look of panic in his optics. Sideswipe took pity on him and moved around the counter to open the door, reading Sunstreaker’s struggle to get ahold of himself across the bond.   
  
“Good evening,” Prowl dipped his head in a polite greeting all too common in the wealthy cities. “I am here to pick up Sunstreaker.”   
  
Sideswipe frowned and fluffed his armor, a gesture any mech would recognize as one of menace. “Yeah. I know why you’re here. And I don’t like it.”   
  
Prowl’s sensory panels flicked in a motion so minute Sideswipe almost didn’t catch it. “Has Sunstreaker changed his mind?”   
  
“Unfortunately, not.” Sideswipe flicked his optics toward Sunstreaker, who was making urgent motions and glaring at him. “I’ve been told I’m not allowed to threaten you either.”   
  
Prowl’s lip quirked. “Well. I appreciate your restraint.”   
  
Sideswipe snorted and angled his frame aside, making room for Sunstreaker to join him at the doorway.   
  
“Hi,” Sunstreaker said, sounding adorably shy, and Sideswipe wanted to grab him and snuggle him for it. But also shove him somewhere safe where mechs like Prowl couldn’t get to him and ruin that charming sweetness.   
  
Prowl’s quirked lip turned into a full, soft smile. “Evening, Sunstreaker. Are you ready to leave or should we reschedule?”   
  
Sunstreaker slipped past Sideswipe, subtly knocking their shoulders as he did so. It was probably meant to be a warning of some kind.   
  
“I’m good to go,” he said. “Don’t mind Sideswipe. He’s an idiot.”   
  
“He is your brother,” Prowl replied with an amused glance Sideswipe’s direction. “That comes with the territory.” He offered Sunstreaker a hand, like a gentlemech. “Shall we?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s face visibly flushed blue. But he lifted his hand and rested his fingers on Prowl’s palm. “Sure. Let’s go.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up for me.” He paused and glared at Sideswipe. “And don’t follow us either.”   
  
Sideswipe chuffed a vent. “I wouldn’t do that.”   
  
“Sure.” Sunstreaker rolled his optics and turned back toward Prowl.   
  
“I will take utmost care with your brother,” Prowl said with a dip of his head. “Have a good night, Sideswipe.”   
  
Not likely. He was going to spend all evening worrying about Sunstreaker. He just might camp out in the cafe, watching the door, as he waited for Sunstreaker to get back.   
  
Or he’d leave and find a distraction. There was always some mech looking for a good time at the local bar, or rather, the only bar. Or maybe, he’d remain alone and drink just enough engex to dull his senses.   
  
Sideswipe slipped back into Color and Conversation, locking the door behind him. He stared out through the transsteel, watching Prowl and Sunstreaker vanish into the night.   
  
He hoped he was wrong. He sincerely did. Sunstreaker deserved to be happy. He deserved to have someone.   
  
Sideswipe sighed and offlined his optics. He tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against the door.   
  
Prowl wasn’t Outlash.   
  
Or at least, he’d better not be. Or Sideswipe was going to make certain he wished he’d never stepped foot into Uraya.   
  


***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for Enchanted, at least Sunstreaker and Prowl's intro story. I still have plans to write a "how they met" for both Jazz/Sides and Starscream/Shockwave, I'm just waiting for that burst of inspiration. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And comments are always welcome. :)


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